


So, So Much

by toffeecat (Hero_of_Denerim)



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fade to Black, Light Bondage, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-07-04 13:40:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15842424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hero_of_Denerim/pseuds/toffeecat
Summary: Rika's route as told through prompt fills forfemslashficlets.





	1. Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You hope she finds whatever she seeks. You _need_ her to find whatever she seeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [femslashficlets](http://femslashficlets.dreamwidth.org)' prompt #182 - welcome.

"Welcome!" The saviour grasps your hands and draws you in, breathes a kiss onto each cheek. "Ray has told me so much about you!"

Yet you know nothing about her, aside from her title. You wouldn't have thought of her as the protector of this place, if you had passed by her in a corridor; on a glance, she might be just another lost soul seeking refuge and purpose. Now that you do, you couldn't imagine anyone else.

There is a fragility in everything she does, everything she is - from her posture to her movements to the way she looks around. But it doesn't make her weak. Because there is a fierceness in her, too; a passion that burns bright within her eyes that few can bear to look at and even fewer call their own.

Ray has told you how lucky you were to be asked to meet her already, having stayed with them so briefly; how you were among a selected few to talk to her directly. You thought he had exaggerated. He didn’t. She is a woman worthy of worship, and this place is her temple.

She notices your nervous smile, and graces you with one of her own. It eases your fears and your worries, shrugs them off you like an old blanket. Blessings do that, you suppose. Because what else could it have been?

You let her guide you away, away from Ray and the hallway, and into the privacy of a grand parlour. She so clearly belongs here, and you wish that one day, you would, too.

You don't remember the way she led you. You don't know if you care to. Not if you can remember the gentle squeeze of her fingers around yours, like a promise of more to come; or the way her hair just seems to bounce off from her shoulders in luscious waves; or the subtle scent following her every step, floral and light like an early spring morning.

Being in the same room with her is too much. Her presence threatens to smother you, to overcome you until there is nothing left of you. You know you’d let it happen. Her attention weighs heavy on your shoulders, now that it is focused on you alone, and her gaze keeps yours captive. It is inquisitive, curious; as if she can see through you and into your soul. It is the most natural thing.

You hope she finds whatever she seeks. You _need_ her to find whatever she seeks.

When she releases you, she smiles, and that alone sends your heart racing. You want to say something, convince her of your worth or beg her not to cast you away, but the words won't come.

Her smile grows wider, and you fear your heart might stop. She reaches out and caresses your cheek, her touch as light as a passing butterfly that just escaped the swarm in your belly. Then she speaks, and each word is a caress on its own.

"Please, call me Rika. Let us be fast friends."


	2. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You want to see the hunger in her bright green eyes, to thread your fingers through her tousled, blond mane, but you know you can't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [femslashficlets](http://femslashficlets.dreamwidth.org)' prompt #173 - anticipation, and loosely inspired by [this CG](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/mystic-messenger/images/b/b1/V_35.png/revision/latest?cb=20170916114735). ~~Bad Ending Who?~~

You wait for her touch. You can't see and you can't move, not with your eyes covered with a silk scarf and your hands tied to the bed post behind your head. You lie still, waiting for a kiss, a touch, a _breath_. You hear her laugh - airy and clear like a wind chime in spring wind - that made you fall for her in the beginning, and you know she is there, _right there_ but she is too far away and it drives you mad-

Her slender fingers trace the rim of the scarf, just underneath your cheekbones; as light as a feather, and yet so intense, and your head tips back. Her thumb brushes over your lips, and you part them slightly, wanting, _hoping_ \- but she doesn't indulge you.

It's teasing, _so teasing_ as one finger moves across your jaw and down your throat to your shoulder, to curl around the strap of your dress. You inhale, sharply, because this is not enough and you want more, and she laughs again. Slowly, oh so slowly, she pulls the thin strip of white lace and frills aside. You moan in frustration as she withdraws her hand completely. She doesn't let you rush her; she undoes the other strap as smoothly and carefully.

Her hair falls over you, tickles your bared shoulders. She leaves a trail of light kisses along your jaw and down your throat, where her finger has moved down moments ago, setting your skin aflame once more; she leaves you shuddering and _wanting_ as she withdraws once again.

Not for long, though. She toy with the hem of your dress, as white and frilly as the straps that are now draped across your upper arms, and you can still feel her breath on your cheek. Her nails rake across the soft skin of your thighs with every inch she pushes the dress towards your core.

Your own nails dig into your palms. You want to see the hunger in her bright green eyes, to thread your fingers through her tousled, blond mane, but you know you can't. You mustn't. Not now. You writhe under her, torn between beckoning her to be faster, and prolonging this sweet, delicious torture.

She lets the skirt of your dress pool on your belly, its fabric cool against your skin. It isn't enough to dampen the desire coiled up inside you, though, flaring up anew with even the smallest of touches, and you want more, so much more. Her fingers slip under the thin, sheer lace of your panties, tracing invisible circles over your mound and you moan as she straddles one of your legs. Your hips buck up, trying to get closer, to get _more_. You press your leg against her. A soft gasp falls from her lips. You treasure it.

"Say that you love me," she whispers into your ear. It's more a plea than a command, you know; with you, she can be raw and vulnerable and drop the mask she shows to everyone else. And you gladly obey.

"I love you," you whimper back. Your breath hitches up as she gently bites your helix. "So much, so, so _ah!_ " 

"Good." You hear her smile, and feel it against your skin. It makes your heart beat faster, maybe even faster than any of her touches could. "I'm so glad."

So are you. When she lowers her lips onto yours, you respond greedily. It tastes salty and sweet and so, _so_ good. You don't bother to suppress the small noise of relief - even if you had wanted to, you wouldn't have been able to hold it back. Nor do you mind her swallow your moan, when she - finally - dips a finger between your slick folds.

Your head lolls back onto the cushion, and your eyes are firmly shut, despite the scarf. All you can focus on, are her fingers on you and inside you.

You will pay her back in kind, later. You smile at the thought. After all, your night has just started. 


End file.
